Chapter 3

The sharp, antiseptic smell of a hospital was the first thing that registered. I blinked my eyes open, a dull ache throbbing in my head. A white ceiling, the steady beep of a machine next to me. I was in an emergency room, an IV line taped to the back of my hand.

I was safe. I had survived. A wave of relief washed over me, so potent it almost made me dizzy again.

"Looks like you're awake," a calm voice said.

I turned my head. A doctor stood by my bed, looking at my chart. He was young, with kind, dark eyes and a reassuring smile. His name tag read "Dr. Alex Rodriguez."

"You gave us a bit of a scare," he said. "You had a severe hypotensive episode, likely brought on by extreme stress. We've got you on fluids. You just need to rest."

I tried to sit up, but my body felt heavy. "Thank you," I managed to whisper.

He nodded. "Just try to take it easy. Your family was notified, but no one has shown up yet."

Of course not, I thought with a bitter pang. They were probably too busy celebrating.

I must have drifted off again, because the next thing I knew, the curtain to my cubicle was slightly ajar, and I could hear two nurses talking in hushed tones at their station.

"Did you hear about the girl in bed three?" one asked.

"The one who collapsed? Yeah. Her stepsister's boyfriend, Liam, called in. He sounded so worried," the second nurse replied. "He said she's been very jealous and unstable lately, trying to sabotage her stepsister's career."

"Oh, that's awful," the first one said with sympathy. "That poor stepsister, Scarlett. Liam said she's sweet as pie but so fragile. He's a real saint for putting up with a sister-in-law like that to be with the woman he loves."

Their words were a cold shower, washing away any lingering sentiment I might have had. It was all so clear now. Liam wasn't just manipulative; he was actively painting me as a villain to the entire world, all to make his and Scarlett' s deception smoother. He didn't love me. He never did. He was just using me. The love I'd held for him for a decade was a foolish, one-sided fantasy.

The pain of that realization was sharp, but it was a clean pain. A pain that cauterized a wound. I was finally free.

One of the nurses came in a few moments later to check my vitals. She had a kind, matronly face.

"Feeling any better, dear?" she asked.

"A little," I said. "Did... did anyone drop anything off for me?"

"Oh, yes!" she said, her face brightening. "A very worried professor of yours called a little while ago, a Sarah Chen. She said you were supposed to meet her today and she got concerned when you didn't show up or answer your phone. She was the one who suggested we check your mother's address when the paramedics couldn't find any ID on you. A nice young man brought you in, by the way. He didn't leave a name, just said he was passing by and saw you collapse on the lawn. Paid for the initial check-in and left this for you."

She handed me a small paper bag. Inside was a bottle of water and a carton of milk. It was a small, simple gesture, but after the cruelty of my family, it felt like an incredible act of kindness. A mysterious stranger and my old professor were more concerned for my well-being than my own mother.

A new kind of fire lit inside me. Forget them. Forget Liam. I had a dream to chase.

Ignoring the protest of my aching body, I sat up and pulled the IV line from my hand.

"Honey, what are you doing? You're not cleared for discharge," the nurse said, alarmed.

"I'm fine," I said, my voice stronger than I expected. "I have to go. I have to get to the university."

I slid off the bed, my legs a little shaky but holding. I had to get to Professor Chen. I had to formally accept that internship before Liam and Scarlett could steal it from me.

I walked out of the ER cubicle, still in my own clothes, my mind singularly focused. As I reached the automatic doors of the hospital exit, they slid open, and Liam Peterson was standing there, a bouquet of roses in his hand and a look of practiced concern on his face.

"Chloe! I was so worried! Your mother told me what happened..." he started, stepping towards me.

In my first life, I would have run into his arms, crying with relief.

This time, I looked right through him as if he were a ghost. I sidestepped him without breaking my stride and walked out into the bright afternoon sun, not giving him a second glance.

I heard him call my name from behind, his voice laced with shock and confusion. "Chloe? Wait!"

I didn't stop. I didn't look back. The feeling of walking away from him, of leaving him standing there in stunned silence, was the most liberating feeling I had ever known.